Welcome to Greenvale
by Bearbutt
Summary: Highschool AU: The Morgan twins are new to Greenvale. Something seems fishy about the place. Classes are cancelled on rainy days, and the mysterious Environment Club is supposedly a hotbed of drug abuse. York is on the case. Zach just wants to have a normal school year. York/Emily, Zach/Emily, George/Thomas/Becky/Diane/Carol shenanigans. Rating will go up.


**I generally have a policy against Highschool AUs. I completely understand skipping this fic for that reason. However, I've spent the past week or so texting Stefaniyana headcanons about what dorks the main characters would be as teenagers.**

**Yes, their Uncle Cooper is that Cooper. There are some OCs in here because I'm making most of the main cast into teens and they need school staff.**

**Unbeta'd and cross-posted to tumblr.**

* * *

'Welcome to Greenvale' a sign boasts the town's population from its perch on a giant stump. Francis Zachary Morgan sits in the passengers seat and watches the trees go by. The move from his uncle's work in Baltimore, to a small town in Washington, is not an enthusiastic one. Their family has moved a lot in the past few years. His uncle needs to keep up with investigations, not the best job to raise two teenagers with, but a well-paying one.

The rented car still smells like pine air freshener and car wax. It would smell like smoke if his brother had his way. As it is, they've had to stop for smoke and pee breaks twice today.

"Look's like we've left the civilized world, Zach." His brother, York, could not be less enthusiastic about their move.

"I'm sure you boys'll like this town just fine." Their uncle says.

"According to the tourist pamphlet, Greenvale is famous for its lumber industry and suspicious military activities."

"Pretty sure they didn't advertise that on the pamphlet, York."

"I may have taken some liberties based on the websites I visited."

"Were they conspiracy theory forums?"

"Maybe."

Zach sighs and York is pawing at the child-locked windows because he wants to smoke a cigarette. His laptop batteries died sometime between cities in Oregon. A bored York is a terrible thing.

"Oh look, we're here." Says their uncle.

The house looks like it's been stamped into place like each of the houses around it. Instant subdivision, just add water. For what it's worth, if they're going to be living in the sticks, having a house near the centre of town will be convenient.

The movers are already there and Zach jumps in to help with the heavier stuff. Uncle Cooper is directing them on where to place the furniture. York is, of course, absent.

"The view from the roof is amazing. Zach, you've gotta see this!"

There he is.

* * *

Zach is running down hallway after hallway. The walls are covered in veins and it feels like the world around him is breathing. It's trying to eat him. The hallway shifts and suddenly he's being chased by some dark presence. It sounds terrible, like metal scraping on metal.

It's going to kill him.

A door swings open. Zach is in a white room. In the centre sits York. He's crying.

"You were too late."

Then he puts a gun to his head.

Zach thrashes out of his cover and sits up. His heart is the only thing he can hear. There's someone else in his bed. He shoves at the body.

"Whassat Zach?"

York blinks at him. His mohawk is limp and hanging in his eyes. He pushes Zach's shoulder.

"Why are you in my bed?" Zach says.

York is lying on his side in a soft old Clash T-shirt and pyjama pants with sharks. He pushes his dark hair to the side and shrugs, as if the answer is obvious.

"Because you have bad dreams."

Zach lies back down. York has always known exactly how and when to comfort him. It's his one area of empathy.

As he settles, Zach allows himself to be spooned by his younger brother. His heartbeat is going back to normal. He thinks about painting stars on his wall with glow paint. That way he'll wake up to a nebula.

"Was it the one with Mom and Dad?"

"No. This one was worse."

"Well, it's okay. I'm here." York's chin scratches the back of Zach's neck.

"Promise?"

"Always."

* * *

The two of them are eating breakfast before school. Zach feels a little embarrassed at still needing his brother as a safety blanket. York, for his part, hasn't stopped rambling about Silence of the Lambs.

"While Brian Cox's performance in Manhunter was a perfectly executed Hannibal Lecter, it just lacked a certain spark. Now Hopkins version may be more cartoon-ish, it stuck in viewers minds and was genuinely frightening. I think Silence of the Lambs had the more interesting serial killer. Buffalo Bill's people suit was based off Ed Gein. A man who used human tissue as a crafting material. Now, that's one way to recycle."

Zach has only tuned in just now.

"York, it's seven. Can we save the 'everything is people' chat for past noon?"

"Sure Zach."

"You boys had better get headed to school." Uncle Cooper is on his fifth cup of coffee.

"You're not actually going to wear that?" Zach wrinkles his nose at his twin's clothes.

York shrugs on a leather jacket. His Who T-shirt matches his Union Jack Converse. It's a well put together outfit in his opinion.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

Zach flushes. His collared shirt has been ironed and made crisp with starch. His slacks are pressed and his loafers are as casual as he'd prefer.

"It's not a private school, Zach."

"It doesn't hurt to make the effort."

And on that note, they're out the door. Outside it is a crisp, clean morning. Clear with a wind chill. York looks warm in his leather jacket. Zach does not comment on this. That would be admitting defeat in their squabble.

The walk to school takes them past the diner and a gas station. It's not a chain and Zach finds it weird that this town doesn't even have a Starbucks. It's Washington. He's pretty sure they're required to have a Starbucks on every street.

Using his twin telepathy (that's not actually a thing) York says, "I told you, we have left civilization behind."

* * *

The office administrator is a thick black woman with horn-rimmed glasses. She frowns as she pulls up class lists.

"Now, there are only open spaces for one in this period. English, Math, and Home Economics have free slots."

"I'm sure whatever you choose will be fine for both of us." Zach says, diplomatic.

"If there's any film courses, I'd like to take that as an elective." York adds.

Her look is hard to read, but she clicks the mouse a few times and then prints off two class lists.

"Your first class is just down the hall," she says to Zach, "You're in the Stewart Wing." she tells York.

They survey their classes. The only shared classes they have are History and PE. It certainly lowers the number of times they'll have to explain that, yes, they are twins, today. Zach gives his brother a little wave before heading down the hall. York salutes him and heads off in what might not be the right direction.

"Excuse me. Mr. Smith?" Zach says as he enters the classroom.

The class looks up. He winces. He should have come to school earlier. Now his new-ness is going to make a scene. It's bad enough that he's starting the school year a whole week late.

He walks to the front of the class to talk quietly with his teacher. The man looks enough like Don Cheadle for it to be noticeable. Not enough to warrant comment from Zach, however.

"Francis Morgan?" He asks.

"I go by Zach. It's my middle name."

Mr. Smith crosses the name he's written on his attendance list. He gestures for Zach to take a seat. Zach chooses a spot close to the front and away from the window. He knows that if York were here, he'd make some sort of comment on the seating placement of anime characters.

But, Zach isn't a giant fucking nerd. So, he says nothing and looks at the board. The girl sitting next to him is staring, so he looks harder and hunches his shoulders.

She slips a note onto his page. He frowns and begins copying notes from the board.

Not one to be ignored, she clears her throat. Zach turns to her, his expression screaming 'what do you want?'.

"You dropped your notebook."

Zach takes a moment to properly look at the girl. She has blonde shoulder length hair and pale eyes. Her nose is pleasantly sloped and she has a wrinkle between her eyes. Zach feels a flush creeping up from his neck to his ears.

"Thank you, sorry."

"It's alright. I think you'll find that Mr. Smith doesn't really care if we talk, so long as we hand in our homework in time. That, and he's really tough on grammar rules. He has workshops every Friday."

"You're being really nice and helpful. Are you sure this is real high school and not some episode of the Twilight Zone?"

Zach watched the girl's pupils widen like a predator. It was then that he spotted the copy of Thomas Harris's Red Dragon on her desk.

Oh.

Oh god.

"You do realise you're sitting in the spot of the 'mysterious exchange student', according to anime seating arrangement, right?"

Zach is in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

* * *

Home Economics has never been a large area of interest for York. He's not good at sewing, nor a busy homebody. More often than not, he grazes on pre-packaged foods rather than cooking. Thus, he's sitting with his feet up and ignoring the instruction by their teacher.

He's chosen a seat at what he assumes is the 'unpopular' table. The other two students seated are a mousy blonde girl and a thin boy in a sweater vest. York pegs them as 'doormat' and 'closeted', though speculation without proper research is just a judgement.

Their teacher finishes speaking and he realises he has no idea what they're supposed to be doing.

"Would you like to grab the ingredients for the stew?" The thin boy asks.

He's soft spoken and seems nice. York smiles back and nods. He can see the boy wince.

He's loading his arms when the hunched over Home Ec teacher comes to chastise him.

"Now, Mr. Morgan. Apples don't go in stew. Those are for next classes pies."

"I don't understand why they get to eat pie…" He almost whines.

"Because they'll need to cool over lunch hour. Don't worry, you're not missing out. You'll get to make pie on Wednesday."

York frowns, "I don't want to wait until Wednesday to have pie."

The thin boy appears at his side and tugs him by his sleeve. York follows, albeit grudgingly.

"Okay stew."

"My name's York." He corrects.

The boy twitches, "I'm Thomas."

He looks to the mousy girl, "I'm Olivia."

"Excellent. Now that we've all been introduced, someone can explain to me why there's a huge black stain on Station 4."

York feels a chill sweep through the Foods room. It's like he's just asked about an elephant in the room. Except the elephant is a metaphor for some kind of genocide. On food. Or something. He's lost the metaphor and has stopped caring.

"A student had an accident." Thomas says.

His tone is diplomatic, but there is hate in his eyes.

"Did someone die?"

"No, no one ate the food, thank god." Olivia says.

It seems as if the blackened Station 4 emits a sad and evil aura. York intends to inspect the damage further for poltergeists or lost souls.

First, he has to chop stew vegetables.

York enjoys stuffing his face before his next class. Thomas directs him towards his science class. York feels like he has made a friend. Or at least a friendly acquaintance.

* * *

"So."

"So. How were your first two periods?"

Greenvale believes in students getting a fifteen minute recess after second period. In this time, the Morgans have reunited and found a hidden hallway to eat fruit leather in. York is stretched fully across the hall to have his head and feet touch separate walls. Zach sits cross-legged and watches his brother with amusement.

He thinks of telling York about the girl -her name is Emily- from his English class. He can't think of a way to begin that topic other than, "So your soul mate goes to this school." and keeps quiet. It's not hard to keep quiet around York. His brother can fill any space with noise.

"You see, John doesn't actually own a cat. Garfield is a manifestation of his base desires. He is John's subconscious need for food and sleep. The Id, as Jungian psychology defines it. John is constantly at ends with his own persona. It drives all others away and leaves him more alone than ever. Garfield is a parasitic hallucination."

Then again, maybe he just wants to keep Emily a secret from York because she's really pretty.

* * *

It's too late to try and keep Emily a secret from York, because the two share Film Studies class right after the break. He sits right next to the door. She sits almost directly across from him.

York, being York, decides to test the class on their study of Film.

"What do you say we close that door? We can have whatever kind of party we want without the teacher checking us out every few seconds."

Silence. The kid sitting next to him seems a little uncomfortable. The whole uncomfortable silence is the type associated with people deliberately not looking at him or his mohawk.

"You know, you can try, but you're no Judd Nelson."

It's the blonde sitting almost directly across from him. York gets up and goes to stand by her desk. He leans against it and curls his lip.

"Naked blonde walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm-"

"Two foot salami under the other."

The door clicks audibly closed. The teacher is standing there with a weary look on his face.

"Please children, no John Hughes films until later in the year."

York goes back to his seat. He can't wait to tell Zach that he's met his intellectual equal.

* * *

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